Hunter or Hunted? Welcome to Earth
by Shadowsong1012
Summary: Lawrence, Kansas. Two Winchesters were born, and all Hell broke loose. But what happens when they discover two is actually three, and Heaven decides to crash the game? Because life's no fun with just the Devil on Earth. Now, all the other Angels want in too. Question is, what will happen in this chess match between Michael and Lucifer, where they are the pawns?
1. Prologue - Hello world, this is Me

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the original characters as such. All due credit to the original producers and script writers for their wonderful creation. **

Let me tell you a story. The story of the life of a little girl I once knew…

When Leah was born, she developed sepsis and was hospitalised. Luckily, she got off clean with, well, nothing more serious than a light case of asthma. When, on her 6 month birthday, she was finally ready to go home, "home" burnt down with her mother still inside it. Goodbye home, and goodbye to a mother she never had the chance to know; a mother who became a distant voice in her earliest memories, from when she first entered the world. They said it was electrical shortage. She now knows better. Much better.

Her father, for some weird-ass, protective-parenting thing of his own, decided it'd be safer to send her away, rather than keep his baby daughter with him and raise him like a father should. Although, admittedly, not without reason.

Oh…alright then, he had reasons…I can't believe I'm saying this but they were even _goo__d _reasons.

He left her with a couple – Jacob and Melanie Sellars – a couple whose lives he'd saved a while back. They had no kids of their own (and not for lack of trying, bless them), and promised to raise Leah as a healthy, happy, _normal_ girl. But not for one moment did they pretend to be her real parents; growing up, it was always Uncle Jacob and Aunt Mel to her.

Every year on her birthday, she would remember a dark-haired man with a scraggly beard coming to visit her, always with an unusual birthday present – a necklace with a star-shaped symbol on it, or a little pouch filled with odd-smelling herbs and dried flowers. She would run up to him and he would scoop her up in his arms and she would bury her face in his leather jacket – this was "daddy". But next morning, he was gone again.

Then, on her 8th birthday, he came and didn't leave. That night, he sat her down at the dinner table and they talked…and with every word he spoke, Leah aged. By the end of that conversation, Leah was no longer the ordinary 8 year old girl who had skipped into the dining room with the prospect of presents and cake– she had been abruptly and brutally catapulted out of childhood and into a world where monsters were real and pigs might fly. But then…the children of Hunters were never born to be children themselves.

"_Leah, you know that I'm your dad, right? That Uncle Jake and Aunt Mel aren't your parents – I am."_

"Yes daddy…but where's mum?"

There was a long pause…"_sorry sweetie, you're never going to know your mother. She…left us…when you were still just a baby. And she's not coming back."_

"You mean…mummy's dead?"

"_Yes she is. But don't worry Leah, you still have me. Dad will always be here for you. And your two brothers..."_

"I have brothers!?" Her eyes opened wider, hopeful.

"_Yes baby, you do. There's Dean, your older brother, and Sam, who's your twin. You were born on the same day, but Sam's a few minutes older. By just two minutes, if I remember right."_

"Will I get to see them? Sometime soon? Please, daddy?_"_

"_We'll see, Leah, we'll see. But for now, I have something much more important to tell you and there's no nice way to do it. Tell me, Leah, do you believe in monsters?"_

"You mean…like the monster in my closet!?" Her eyes opened wide again…green eyes, so much like her mother's -

"_No, not that one." _Her dad smiled softly, almost sadly. "_But see, Leah, that's my job. Daddy hunts monsters, _bad _monsters. Monsters that can hurt people, and I hunt them and kill them so they can't hurt anyone anymore. I am a Hunter. Do you understand?"_

"I-I- I think so…" She looked at him with wonder in her eyes – "So you're like superman!"

Dad chuckled – "_Well, if you want to think of it that way, I can't stop you!" _

Then he became serious again. "_No, it's not quite like that. You see, these monsters that I hunt are evil; some are demons, literally, others creatures of darkness that appear in most places as folklore and the stuff of nightmares to scare young children. But they're real, Leah, as real as you or me. And sometimes, I just can't save them all. Like your mother…"_

"Mum was killed by a monster?" 

She was no longer smiling now…All her childhood nightmares came crashing down on her again – dark smoke and a horrible old hag with a gaping, glowing hole for a mouth, a man with yellow eyes and the intense heat of a fire, alive, burning, a woman on the ceiling screaming silently…and they were real. They were _all_ real…

She pushed out her chair and ran across to her father, who pulled her into his lap and rocked her gently, pressing his cheek into her hair. And the smell of that old leather jacket, with a hint of whisky and cigarette smoke – a smell she still remembers so clearly.

"_Yes, she was, by a demon. The demon that killed her is very ancient and very powerful. And I am going to hunt him down and kill that evil son of a bitch if it's the last thing I do. And it most likely will be. I don't expect to walk out of it alive. But I can't just leave my children behind, defenceless and vulnerable to other demon attacks." _

He put her down and stooped to see eye to eye with her.

"_Leah, I am going to teach you to Hunt." _

The very next day, Leah's father took her on her very first target practise, using empty bottles and a double-barrel rifle.

"_I took Dean shooting for the first time when he was 6 or 7, and he bulls-eyed every single one. By now he's about as good with a gun as any adult marksman." _He smiled down at her. "_Let's see how you go." _

He stayed with her for days, so many that she lost count; so many that it might've been months, even. Every day, new skills were drilled into her; skills most adults wouldn't dream of knowing, let alone 8 year old girls. Everyday took her one step further from the safety and security of her childhood, further into the perilous life of a fully fledged Hunter. By the end of his stay, Leah could assemble, load and fire just about any weapon in her dad's private arsenal (she quickly realised her father's four wheel drive was not to be messed with), hit a moving target from a hundred meters away, identify herbs and plants used in hoodoo and summoning and cleansing rituals and recite Latin incantations back to front. I suppose he decided his work was done and she'd learnt enough – one morning she woke up, and he was gone.

8 years later, Leah's house burned down while she was out training at her dojo. Once again, it was goodbye home and goodbye to the couple who'd been her parents in everything but name. No one could determine the actual cause of the fire, so it was put down to "electrical shortage". Funny that…you'd think 16 years would be long enough to think up a new excuse to "mysterious fire with casualties", wouldn't it?

Her father showed up that afternoon on her charred doorstep and took her away. First time she'd seen the man in 8 years. Boy, was that an intense car trip…if silence could kill…But you've got to admire the old man. He survived through it, somehow, and last I checked he's still breathing.

"Some father you are. Is that why you send me away all those years ago? Just so I could grow up to watch my parents die again? I've just set the world record for bad luck, and the price was three parents too many."

"_I gave you to the Sellars to keep you safe, Leah. After the demon got your mother, I couldn't risk him finding you as well. I wanted to take you with me…believe me, I did. But your mother would skin me alive if I raised her baby girl like a fugitive. The Sellars knew the risks, and they took you in anyways. They were good people and I'm sorry for their deaths. But you have to put all that behind you now. From now on, you're one of us. You're a Hunter, as is your birthright." _

And so she ended up with Bobby Singer, an old hunter, an expert in supernatural and folk lore who lived by himself in a car repair yard. For two years, she heard nothing from her dad, and focussed instead on learning everything Bobby had to offer – from devil's traps to fixing cars. Especially about cars.

On her 18th birthday, she received a picture of her brothers along with a set of coordinates from her dad – coordinates to a case. _Happy Birthday Leah…what did you expect, a barbie doll? Now go hunt some evil sons of bitches out there. _Thanks dad_._ Apparently, he had decided it was time for her to start hunting. On the plus side, she finally had faces to put to the names – her brothers weren't half bad, either.

Yea, you've guessed it. That little girl was – or is – me. No prize for working that one out, Einstein. Yesterday, Daddy dearest decided to remind me of his continued existence with a simple text message. I suppose the word "hello" didn't occur to him after 5 years of nothingness. Just another set of coordinates and 3 short words – "_Find your brothers". _It's about time, too. I mean, when was the last time I saw them? Like…never? And classic dad – he just _forgot _to tell them about me. My _brothers_ don't even know I _exist. _So now I'll just walk up to them and say "hi, I'm your long lost sister." Just peachy. But that's enough complaining from me. This is it, the moment of truth…time to go find my family…

_**Leah**_

P.S. Don't forget to tell Bobby you took the Chrysler. And tell him to quit yelling and keep the blood pressure down.

She put down her pen, closed the cover of her leather-bound journal and rubbed her eyes tiredly. She was impressed with herself. She'd just relived the entire 23 years of her life in a few short hours and now it was all down and documented.

_Damn, it was already 9am. If she was to get to Jericho by noon, she'd have to hit the gas. _

She threw the pen and journal down onto the seat beside her and glanced at her phone again – sooner or later, Bobby would notice the Chrysler 300 was missing…but she was ready for it, and by then she would safely be states away. _Sorry Bobby. If only you hadn't told me about this baby sittin' in the garage. Shouldn't have brought me up to appreciate fine cars so much, eh? _Mentally, she shrugged to herself. She wasn't sorry, not really – Bobby never used it anyways, and she knew it was going to be her birthday present sooner or later. She turned the key and grinned as the engine purred to life. Cranking the music up, she set off down the road again.


	2. I spy with my little eye

**Chapter 1 – I Spy With My Little Eye, Two Brothers Ending With Winchester (Pilot)**

_A black Chevy Impala…now there's something you don't see every day…_

Leah lowered her binoculars and took a bite out of her sandwich. She'd located her dad's old car on the road a little ways off from Jericho, and tailed them to a gas station. She'd watched as a tall, dark-haired man got out from the car, coming back with a packet of crisps, a roll of candy and a bottle of soft drink, and a lighter-haired man stuck his head out from the window to talk to him. She looked at them, then down at the slightly dog-eared photo of her brothers.

_Yup, that's them alright. The dark-haired one is Dean and the other one must be Sam. _

She left them bickering over a box of cassette tapes and overtook them to Jericho, driving at almost double the speed limit. She had things to do before they were anywhere close.

"Just a room for one, please." Leah smiled at the old man over the counter as she handed him a credit card. She had found her way to the only motel in town – John was bound to have a room here.

"Melanie Sanders?" He read out the name on the card.

"That's me!" She gave a little toss of her head and flashed another dazzling smile at the guy. His expression became a little less sour.

_Men… they never change. _She sighed inwardly.

"Oh, and can I ask a favour? I'm here to meet the Aframians. I believe one of them already has a room here. Could you by any chance give me a room close by?"

"Yeah, sure. Let me see… Aframian...he's in Room 10, booked it out for a month, so I'll put you in Room 11 next door. That good?"

"That's perfect, thank you." She gave him a final smile for good measure as she picked up her luggage and made her way to her room, leaving him to daydream about his younger years.

Leah looked around to make sure no one was watching then inserted the pick into the lock. She jiggled it around for a few seconds, until she heard a satisfying "click", and let herself into the empty motel room.

_Oh, urgh…geez dad, couldn't you at least __try __to keep this place clean? It's a mushroom farm in here. _Leah wrinkled her nose as the stench of unwashed bed sheets, mothballs and rotting meat hit her in the face. She traced the rotting meat back to its source – a half-eaten burger lying on the bed-side table. _He hasn't been here for at least a few days then. _Her eyes roamed the room, picking up walls plastered with sheets of paper, an unmade bed and a circle of salt on the floor. Well at least she knew it was the right room.

She walked up to the wall, picking her way carefully through piles of junk, and scanned the contents – _Centennial Highway victims. _Her dad had put together each victim's profile, complete with their picture and history.

_That's odd…none of the victims have anything in common. It's almost as if the killer chose them on purpose __**because**__ they were all completely different, to make it difficult to find the link, find a motive and track him down. Goddamn it. Why do these bastards __**always **__have to make it harder for us? _

She spun around in frustration…only to come face to face with another wall covered in images of women dressed in white. In the midst of it all was a newspaper article – "_1981. Constance Welch, of 4636 Breckenridge Road, jumps off Sylvania Bridge at Mile 33 of the Centennial Highway and drowns in the river." _ Above the newspaper article, John had written '_Woman in white' _in big, capital letters.

_So, this woman commits suicide, comes back as an angry ghost, and haunts the stretch of road between the Centennial Highway and her house at the end of Breckenridge Road. She becomes a woman in white, hunts down and kills unfaithful men…unfaithful men…that's it!_

Leah turned to look at the victim's portraits again. Men with nothing in common…except the fact that they had cheated on their partners. She looked at them in disgust.

_You bastards had it coming all along. Now I'm gonna hunt this spirit down and kill her, but I can't say I don't agree with her. You men deserve what you got, every single one of you. _

"_Police have discovered an empty car on Mile 33 of the Centennial Highway, belonging to Troy Squire. There was blood on the windscreen and windows, identified as the victim's, but the body remains to be found…Police are urging anyone with information to step forward and rep-…"_

Leah turned off the radio, picked up her coat and walked out the door. There was work to do.

Pulling over on the side of the road, she smiling as she saw the Impala parked just a few yards away. _Never late for a party, eh, boys? _She pulled out a little box from the glove compartment and shuffled through her collection of fake IDs until she'd found the one she wanted – _Susan Diaz, detective. _She stepped out of her car and headed onto the bridge.

"No sign of a struggle, no footprints, no finger prints…Spotless. It's almost too clean. So this kid Troy, he's dating your daughter, isn't he?"

"Ya."

"How's Amy doing?"

"She's been putting up missing posters downtown."

"You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Dean strode around the vehicle, examining it.

"And who are you?" The cop sounded unfriendly.

"Federal Marshals." Dean flashed his fake ID at the officer, long enough for him to see the crest and layout, but not long enough to read the details.

"You two are a little young for _marshals, _aren't you?" He looked suspiciously at the brothers.

Dean gave a sarcastic little laugh. "Thanks, that's awfully kind of you. You did have another one just like this, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right, about a mile up the road. There have been others before that."

"So this victim" – Sam broke in, "You knew him?"

The officer nodded. "A town like this, everybody knows everybody."

"Any connections between the victims, besides that they're all men?" Sam wished Dean would knock off that pompous, arrogant tone of his. They _were _dealing with police after all – _real_ police – and if they got caught out, they'd be in deep shit.

"No, not so far as we can tell," the cop replied shortly.

"So what's the theory?" Sam strolled to the other side of the car to join Dean.

"Honestly?" the cop shrugged, "We don't know. Serial murder…Kidnapping ring…"

"Well that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys," Dean drawled. Sam wanted to punch him, but instead stood on his foot – hard.

"_Time's up, boys."_

Tension broke as they all turned to look at the newcomer. Dean gave a whistle which was cut short as Sam stood on his foot again.

"_Susan Diaz, detective." _She flashed her ID at the group and caught sight of the officer's raised eyebrow. "_Don't believe me? Here. Check for yourself."_

She handed him her ID card and shook hands with the boys. "_Now why don't you two fellas here take off while I keep the officer busy?" _

_One. _Leah decided to keep a tally of how many times she saved the boys asses. _Sam and Dean – zero, Leah – one and counting._

She turned her eyes away from their receding backs, laughing inside as they encountered the sheriff and real Fed. Marshals, and back towards the expectant police officer. "_Now, I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind – "_

"What was that all about?"

Sam raised an eyebrow – he was the only other person who'd seen the detective wink faintly at Dean as they shook hands, and noticed Dean's surprised expression.

"Hey, I just have that effect on the ladies," Dean grinned his signature crooked grin, "I'm telling ya, she totally had it in for me. But man, she was hot for a government agent. I'd like to see_ her_ out of work clothes. And out of _any _clothes." He winked suggestively at Sam.

"Did you hear what she said at the end though? '_Why don't you fellas take off while I keep the officer busy'…_it'slike she knew we weren't real Fed Agents."

"Quit worrying, Sammy," Dean said as he head-banged to Metallica. Sam rolled his eyes.

After a pause…"Besides– if you're that worried, just call her later and ask."

Sam glanced at Dean, confused. Dean held up a folded slip of paper between two fingers and winked at Sam, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh God." Sam groaned. "Tell me it's not…what the hell man? She's a detective, not a bartender! How the hell did you get your hands on that?"

"She gave it to me – slipped it into my palm as we shook hands. Pretty smooth for a chick, huh?" –Dean was still grinning smugly – "No work and all play makes Dean a _very_ happy boy. Check it out…"

Dean flipped open the slip of paper with a finger. His grin vanished. His eyebrows knitted together.

"_Son of a bi-!" _

Dean jumped as his hand slipped and hit the horn, cutting him off. "_Goddamn it!"_

Sam laughed. "What, an arrest warrant instead of her phone number?"

Wordlessly, Dean shoved the slip of paper at Sam – "_Woman in White" _

"Woman in white?" asked Sam, "But isn't that – "

"Yeah, it's a type of spirit." Dean confirmed Sam's unspoken question. He was serious now, his previous playboy attitude gone.

"I think you're right, Sammy. Something's not clicking. Somehow, she knows who we are –more importantly, _what _we are. I'm starting to think she even planned the meeting on the bridge. I mean, it's not like hot chicks always walk around carrying slips of paper with the name of pissed female spirits in their pockets, right?"

Sam laughed. "Not at all…in fact, it's about as likely as a girl just randomly giving you her phone number."

"_Hey, shut up! I'm being serious." _

Sam laughed again – Dean was obviously still pissed at having his fantasies smashed.

"So what do you think? Is she one of _us_?" asked Sam, now appropriately sober.

"Yeah, maybe. Better to know for sure though. I reckon we need to have a little chat with Miss…What was her name again?" Dean squinted at Sam as he tried to remember.

"Susan Diaz," Sam filled in, "Although that's probably not even her real name."

"And," he added, "_Someone_ didn't get her phone number. So how do we find her?"

Dean groaned. "God knows. I'm not even sure I want to."


	3. Fight and flight

**Chapter 2 – Fight And flight**

"_So what do you think? Is she one of us?" asked Sam, now appropriately sober. _

"_Yeah, maybe. Better to know for sure though. I reckon we need to have a little chat with Miss…What was her name again?" Dean squinted at Sam as he tried to remember._

"_Susan Diaz," Sam filled in, "Although that's probably not even her real name."_

"_And," he added, "Someone didn't get her phone number. So how do we find her?" _

_Dean groaned. "God knows. I'm not even sure I want to."_

It was pitch dark when Dean and Sam walked out to the middle of the bridge and looked down into the water below.

"So this is where Constance took the swan dive." Dean leant on the metal barrier, supporting his weight on his hands.

"So you think dad would've been here?" Sam looked at Dean.

Dean pulled a face. "Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him." He straightened and took a few steps away from the barrier.

"_And I'm chasing you." _ Sam and Dean spun around, coming face to face with the young woman they'd met earlier that day on the bridge.

"Hello again, Sam, Dean,"She smiled at them in the dark, her hands raised in a peace gesture as she approached them. "I don't believe we've met properly yet."

"Detective Diaz, wasn't it?" Sam asked casually.

"Oh please," she scoffed, "You boys don't believe that. I'm Leah."

Dean and Sam exchanged a quick glance. "And how do we know that's your real name?" Dean's tone was challenging, and next to him, Sam could feel him tensing.

She said shortly, "You don't." then added –"But it does sound a heck of a lot less pathetic than Susan Diaz, doesn't it? At least mine wasn't pieced together from an internet search on the '_100 most common names and surnames'.._.at least I don't think it was… "

Her lips lifted into that slightly crooked smile again.

Sam's face softened as he smiled back at her. Dean, still trying to be macho, snorted.

"Besides," she continued, "Who cares if my name is real or not? I just saved you both the trouble of doing a cold search on me. Is a 'thank you' too much to ask for?"

"Ok, save the chitchat for the dinner party," barked Dean. "What do you want? And are you a bloody hunter or what?"

Leah sighed tragically and turned to Sam, rolling her eyes skyward. "He's a classic example of brawn over brains, have you noticed?" Sam nodded, grinning.

"And I was only trying to be friendly."

She turned back to Dean. "Maybe if you'll just admit that you're confused and stop trying to act like you're still in charge, I'd talk to you."

Dean opened and closed his mouth silently like a fish out of water – "I-I-I…" he stuttered.

Sam couldn't help himself. He started laughing as he saw Dean's expression – a mixture of indignant, hurt and pissed – at having been outdone by a chick. He was starting to like this girl_. _For some reason, she seemed familiar to him.

Leah looked at Sam in surprise. _She hadn't exactly meant to be funny. Telling her older brother off was her way of calming herself down, she supposed. Although they couldn't tell, she felt like she'd just run a marathon, her heart was beating so fast. These were her brothers…her family…as in the only family she had left...And she was finally with them, talking face-to-face. _

"I'm sorry." Suddenly, Leah seemed less imposing, deflated, like a spark had gone out of her. "That was probably too harsh, coming from a stranger."

Now Dean was genuinely confused. One minute she was bitching at him to no end and the next, she was apologising to him. In fact, she sounded almost shy, like all the air had been let out of her. _Women. _

Dean was desperately trying to catch Sam's eye over Leah's head. _Sammy's the good one at dealing with the deep stuff, not me. _Sam got the message. _Tell her it's ok, _he signalled back, shrugging.

"Hey you know what? Don't mention it," Dean said gruffly, sticking out a hand. "Truce."

"Truce." She took his hand and smiled at him. _She was tall, he noticed, tall enough to see eye-to-eye with him without straining herself. _

"Okay, so now what?" Sam broke into Dean's reverie.

"Now we keep digging until we find him. It might take a while." Dean sounded business-like again. He started walking again.

"Dean, I told you I got to get back by – ", Sam began. "Monday", they finished at the same time.

Dean turned back to face Sam."Right. The interview. Yeah, Yeah I forgot." He nodded. "You're really serious about this, aren't you?" he asked aggressively, "You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry some girl…?" He trailed off – it was clear enough what he thought of Sam's plans.

"Maybe. Why not?" Sam shrugged defensively. He didn't understand why Dean was so against him and college. _Seriously, what's his problem? It's not like I ever wanted this sort of lifestyle, he of all people should know that. Just 'cause I don't get kicks from digging up dead people and burning their bones…like I'm the crazy one here because I want to be normal._

"Does Jessica know the truth about you?" asked Dean, gesturing with his hands. He knew where Sam's weaknesses were – "I mean does she know about the things you've done?"

Now Sam was angry too. "No and she's never going to know." He took a menacing step towards Dean.

Dean shrugged – "Well that's healthy", he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later you're gonna have to face up to who you really are." He turned his back on Sam.

"Who's that?" Sam challenged.

"One of us!" Dean raised his arms like he was embracing the word before dropping them back to his side. All this while, he kept walking, with Sam hot on his heels.

"No!" Sam was almost shouting now. "I am _not _like you. This is _not _going to be my life." He overtook Dean and planted himself firmly in front of him.

"Well you have a responsibility," said Dean through clenched teeth.

"To dad? And his…crusade?" Sam smiled incredulously. "If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what mum looks like," – he glared at Dean, eyes narrowed. "What difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, mum's gone…and she isn't coming back." He knew it was cruel to say that to Dean, but Sam didn't care. If Dean could use Jess against him, then he could do it too.

It was too much for Dean. He grabbed the front of Sam's collar and slammed him against the metal framework of the bridge.

"_Don't talk about her like that." _

Up until now, Leah had watched this exchange between the two men with a mixture of apprehension and amusement. _So they aren't always sunshine and rainbows, and they still fight like little boys. _But she decided to step in before it got out of control.

She placed her hand firmly on Dean's shoulder and pulled him back. "Easy there, tiger," she said. Dean said nothing, but let go of Sam with a final cold glare.

Suddenly, Dean froze. There, standing on the safety railing, was a dark-haired woman dressed in a white nightgown. "Sam", Dean hissed urgently. Sam and Leah walked up to stand beside Dean.

The woman in white turned her face towards the trio…it was Constance Welch. They watched as her ghost threw herself off the bridge, re-enacting her death.

The three of them ran to where she'd jumped over and looked into the water – nothing.

"Where'd she go?" asked Sam eagerly.

"I don't know," Dean breathed.

A car's engine growled to life. Dean turned to the Impala, squinting as the brightness of her headlights hit his eyes.

He swore – "_What the…?" _

"Who's driving your car?" Sam asked in a whisper.

Dean dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out his car keys, dangling them in front of Sam. _Oh shit. _

Tyres squealing, the Impala headed straight for them.

"Uh, guys?" Leah chose this moment to break in – "Hate to break it to you, but we're kinda about to get run over by your car. At this point, a good thing to do…RUN!"

She took off and Sam bolted after her. Dean hesitated for a fraction of a second more.

"Come on, Dean! Let's go. Go!" Sam yelled at him urgently.

_Damn…there's no way I can outrun the car._

Leah was by no means a slow runner, nor was she unfit. Quite the opposite, in fact. Her years of self defence training and hunting had honed her muscles and improved her stamina until she could run for hours non-stop if she had to – she was pretty much as fit as fit gets. But watching the boys overtake her now, she realised that her legs just weren't long enough to provide the outburst of speed needed to stay clear of the car.

Neither were the boys', for that matter.

Leah dove off to the side and over the safety railing, catching on to one of the metal bars at the last moment to stop herself from falling.

The boys followed suit – she watched as Sam joined her, dangling off the side of the bridge.

"Dean!" she cried out in panic…Dean had thrown himself just a tiny bit too far and was plunging towards the river.


	4. There and Back Again

**Chapter 3 – There And Back Again**

_Leah dove off to the side and over the safety railing, catching on to one of the metal bars at the last moment to stop herself from falling. _

_The boys followed suit – she watched as Sam joined her, dangling off the side of the bridge._

"_Dean!" she cried out in panic…Dean had thrown himself just a tiny bit too far and was plunging towards the river._

Above them, the sound of the Impala's engine died away.

_Just as well I keep my weight down, _thought Leah, grunting a little as she hoisted herself back onto the bridge. She turned to see Sam struggling to do the same and reached out to help pull him up.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, trying to find him in the darkness – "_Dean!"_

"What?" Dean's voice sounded strained, but very much alive. Sam and Leah both let out their breath as they saw Dean's figure dragging itself out of the water.

"Hey, are you alright?" asked Sam.

"I'm super!" he yelled back, sarcasm dripping as heavily as the sewage muck from his hair and clothes.

Leah chuckled. In the dark, she could barely make out Dean's face – it was covered in mud and god-knows-what-other-disgusting-substances – but she just managed to catch his "I'm ok" hand signal.

Beside her, a relieved Sam started laughing too.

"Car alright?" asked Sam, as he circled the Impala.

"Yeah, whatever she did to it, it seems alright now." Dean replied, examining the engine. "That Constance chick…what a _BITCH!" _he yelled the last word out into the night, hoping the ghost was still around to hear the insult.

"Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure," said Sam. Dean gave a loud _huff _and leaned heavily against the car.

"Have you ever met a ghost who willingly _allows_ you to dig up their bones, burn them and send them away to la-la-land?" Leah asked in reply to Sam's statement.

"So where's the trail go from here, genius?" Sam looked at her, irritated.

Dean, thinking the question was addressed at him, threw up his hands, sending droplets of sewage in all directions.

"You smell like a toilet...you stink!" – Sam and Leah said at the same time, wrinkling their noses.

"Beat it" Dean growled menacingly.

By now it was dawn and the sky was beginning to lighten.

"Here," Leah pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket and offered it to Dean.

"Thanks" he accepted gruffly, rubbing at his face.

"Time for me to get going, I think." Leah walked over from where she was standing, leaning against the rails, "I'm sure I'll see you two again and much sooner than you might think. See you boys."

She left them with this cryptic farewell comment and walked away; they watched as her receding figure walked up to a car parked just where they'd parked the Impala that morning, opened the car door, slid in and drove away.

"Is it just me who feels like she's told us nothing about herself tonight other than her name?" Sam asked, turning to glance at Dean.

"Yeah. I learnt jack-shit either." Dean agreed. Then, with a devilish grin, he added, "But I don't need her to tell me that her rack's a size C – it's hard to miss."

Sam snorted, shaking his head in disbelief and punched Dean on the arm. Dean was still laughing when they hit the road.

"One room, please." Dean threw down a fake credit card onto the desk, trying to look normal through the layers of grime caked on his face.

The old man picked up the card and read the name – _Hector Aframian._ "You guys having a reunion or something?" he asked.

Dean cocked his head and Sam asked, "What do you mean?"

"The other guy, Bert Aframian," the old man explained, glaring at them, "He came in and bought out a room for the whole month."

Sam looked around carefully before hunching down next to the door and picking the lock, leaving Dean on lookout.

He poked his head into the room, straightened and walked in, reaching out a hand and grabbing the back of Dean's collar to pull him in as well.

The boys looked around the room, picking up the same things as Leah did yesterday – a circle of salt on the floor, papers plastered all over the walls and the _smell!_

Dean walked over to the bedside table and turned on the lamp. He noticed the half eaten burger sitting there, and sniffed it, recoiling as the smell of rotting meat hit him.

"I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least" said Dean, putting the burger down.

Sam squatted on the floor and ran his fingers through the salt.

"Salt? Cat's eye shells?" he ticked items off – "He was worried, trying to keep something from coming in."

Dean walked over to a wall covered in men's portraits.

"What've you got there?" Sam asked, walking over to join him.

"Centennial Highway Victims…I don't get it," Dean scanned the info on each of the men, "I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities…There's always a connection, right?"

Sam didn't respond – he had walked over to the opposite wall, looking for clues their dad might've left them.

"What do these guys have in common?" Dean was still talking, unaware that Sam wasn't listening.

Sam scanned through the contents stuck on the wall – _Mortis Danse, Devils and Demons, Sirens, Witches and possessions..._

Suddenly, a piece of paper caught his eye. The writing on it was in bold black marker and stood out from the surrounding pencil scrawls.

"_Woman in White." _

Beneath it was the article they had found in the library yesterday, about the suicide of Constance Welch.

Sam shook his head. "Dad figured it out."

"What do you mean?" That got Dean's attention.

"He found the same article we did," Sam explained, nodding at the wall, "Constance Welch. She's a woman in white."

Dean looked back at the victims' portraits..."You sly dogs."

"Alright, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would've found the corpse and destroyed it." Dean said, hoping it was true.

"She might have another weakness." Sam suggested.

"No, dad would want to make sure. He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?"

"No, not that I can tell," Sam sighed. "If I were dad though, I'd go ask her husband…if he's still alive."

"Alright, why don't you, uh, see if you can find an address? I'm gonna get cleaned up." Dean walked towards the bathroom.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said hurriedly, "What I said earlier about mom and dad…I'm sorry."

Dean held up his hand, cutting Sam off. "No chick-flick moments."

Sam snorted in disbelief – "Alright, jerk."

"Bitch." Dean countered.

Sam grinned. This was an exchange he felt comfortable with, at least.

As Dean walked into the bathroom, Sam spotted an old photo wedged into the frame of the mirror. He walked over and picked it up – it was a photo of his dad, himself and Dean, back when they were both still little kids.

He was smiling when a knock on the door broke through his reminiscing. He put the photo down carefully and walked slowly to the door, peering through the eye-hole to see who it was. For some reason, he wasn't surprised to see Leah standing outside.

"Hey, Sam" she smiled at him, as he opened the door.

"Hey!" he smiled back," Sooner than expected indeed."

"Maybe you'll just have to keep expecting me then," she teased softly.

One side of her mouth curved upward – Sam was beginning to recognize that lop-sided smile – it was similar to the one Dean wore when he was being an asshole and he knew it and he knew that you knew it too, just used in a different situation.

He realized that Leah was still looking at him expectantly and quickly recovered himself. "Come in" he invited politely, holding the door open for her.

"Thank you." She stepped inside, lugging 3 plastic bags in after her. "Hungry?"

"Yeah" he admitted, nodding shamefacedly as his stomach growled. Then he suddenly realized what she meant. "Oh no…you didn't…!" he gestured frantically to the plastic bags, shaking his head furiously. She smiled at him. "I mean, you shouldn't have! I mean…Why?" he finally settled on asking, looking at her forlornly with big puppy dog eyes.

She laughed. _Naw! He's adorable!_

"Don't be silly," she said as she walked over to the bed and dumped the bags down, Sam trailing behind her trying somehow to help, "We can't let two full grown men like yourself and Dean get hungry now, can we. Who's going to save the world if you starve to death?"

"Besides," she added, "You two boys are being hunted by the local sheriff for faking Fed IDs. It's probably not a good idea to go wandering around the streets right now."

"What's the racket?" Dean charged out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, brandishing a bottle of shampoo. He stopped when he saw Leah standing next to Sam.

"Oh…" he lowered the shampoo sheepishly.

"Hello Dean," she said calmly, raising her eyebrows appreciatively as her eyes roamed over his body, taking in the sculpted muscles and smooth, bronze sheen of his skin, "Look at you!"

He grinned at her. His near nakedness didn't bother him much. It never did around females…or anyone for that matter. After all, he had nothing to be ashamed of. He caught the bottle of beer she tossed at him "What's this?" he asked, "Whose birthday is it?" He looked at the bottle of beer in his hand – it was El Sol, his favourite.

"No one's", she replied as she tossed a bottle to Sam and popped one open for herself, "Just a toast to Dean and his beautiful swan dive over the edge last night. Cheers!"

She tipped her bottle to Dean in a mock toast. Sam grinned at Dean and raised his bottle as well. Dean shrugged and took a large swig from his own bottle.

"Say whatever you like, sweetheart. I'll take anything for the beer." He returned Leah's salute. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go put some clothes on." He set the bottle down on the bedside table and walked back into the bathroom.

Sam and Leah looked at each other behind his back and burst out laughing.

"You've got to admit," chuckled Leah, "For someone who just ran out of the shower more than half-naked, waving shampoo around like an Oscar, he's got poise."


	5. Sticks and Stones

**Chapter 4 - Sticks and stones will break my bones but salt, silver and holy water will never hurt me**

"_Say what you like, you two. I'll take anything for the beer." He returned Leah's salute. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go put some clothes on." He set the bottle down on the bedside table and walked back into the bathroom. _

_Sam and Leah looked at each other behind his back and burst out laughing._

"_You've got to admit", chuckled Leah, "For someone who just ran out of the shower more than half-naked, waving shampoo around like an Oscar, he's got poise." _

Dean walked back into the room a few minutes later, fully dressed in clean clothing and towelling at his wet hair.

"I'm starving!" he complained, "What's for breakfast?"

Wordlessly, Leah dipped her hand into one of the plastic bags and handed him a burger.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Dean took a bite and stared at the burger. "Bacon, double cheese and onion…is this heaven or what?" He turned to Sam, his mouth full – "Why aren't you this awesome?"

Sam didn't reply – he was too busy looking at Dean with an expression of disgust…_That has got to be the most amazing and disgusting thing I have ever seen. How does he eat that stuff? All that grease and fat and _onion_, this early in the morning…_He groaned silently and braced himself to eat the burger Leah was about the hand him with good grace.

To his surprise, however, she passed him a flat, square parcel instead. His eyes brightened when he saw what it was – a toasted sandwich, still warm from the press, filled with ham, melted cheese, tomato, lettuce and a yellowy paste that looked suspiciously like mustard. He took a bite – it _was _mustard.

He swallowed and grinned thankfully at Leah. "You know, eating actual _food _is hard when you're travelling with him." He nudged Dean in the ribs with his elbow. "Dean seems to think that if something isn't deep fried in fat and seasoned with a can of salt, it isn't good enough to eat."

"Well, at this rate, he'll have a nice solid chunk of rock salt in his liver by the time he's 30, and he'll be ghost-proof." Leah grinned back for the first time and all of a sudden her face looked younger, less guarded.

"Ha-ha, very funny guys." Dean said with his mouth full, "Sammy just lacks the ability to appreciate fine food."

Sam raised an eyebrow and scoffed – "Huh."

Dean shrugged and smirked at him. "Hey, you know it's true."

Sam ignored him.

_Something isn't right. _Sam liked Leah, but he still didn't know if they could trust her. _We've barely known her for 24 hours and here she is, buying breakfast for us like it's any other day_. _She knows about the woman in white _and _she knew how to find us. It's like she knows all about us…yet we know nothing about her…_

"Dean," Sam said abruptly, "Can I have a word? – Excuse us for a second, please," he apologized to Leah as he dragged Dean into the bathroom.

"Mm?" Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam. "What?"

"This just doesn't feel right," Sam started, "Dean, we don't know who she is…hell, we don't even know _what _she is! She knew about the woman in white, remember? She slipped you that note before we'd even found dad's stuff. _And _she found us here – how could she have known where we were staying? We're booked in under a fake name."

"Well," shrugged Dean, "There's only one motel in town after all. Where else would we stay?"

_But she knew our room number!" _hissed Sam. "Look, all I'm saying is if she's going to be around, we ought to find out more about her, know what we're dealing with…you know."

"Yeah," Dean nodded in agreement, "Yeah, you're right. But if she doesn't want to tell us anything, what are we gonna do? She's a girl, Sammy. We can't exactly bust back in there, tie her down and _force _her to have a heart-to-heart with us."

"No…but you _could_ ask." Sam and Dean spun around to see Leah leaning against the doorway.

"I…we…" Dean elbowed Sam, nudging him urgently. "We uh…"

"We were just saying that uh…" Sam drifted off. There was nothing he could say. She'd heard them, obviously. He shrugged and grinned weakly at her, hoping she would grin back. All of a sudden he felt guilty for suspecting her. _All she's done so far is help us out and now we've gone and offended her. _

"Come on," she sighed and straightened herself, jabbing her thumb towards the main room, "Let's go eat some apple pie, andI'll try put two and two together for you."

"So let me get this straight," Dean guided another forkful of apple pie to his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, "You _are_ a hunter."

"Yup, that's right." Leah nodded. She'd pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat face to face with Sam and Dean, fiddling with a chain around her neck as she told them her story. Now that that part was over, she relaxed in the seat and crossed her arms and legs. _Time for the Q&A._

"But you're a g-…" Dean caught himself mid-sentence as he saw Leah's eyes flash dangerously. "Aren't you a bit young for the job?" he amended.

"Not much younger than either of you, I wouldn't think." she responded.

Sam had been looking at Leah intently as she talked. He'd barely had time to glance at her on their first meeting, and their second was too dark to see anything. All he'd really noticed were her formal, office-style work clothes.

But today, gone were the overcoat, shirt and suit pants. Instead, she wore a cropped black leather jacket over a white casual shirt, dark denim jeans and black combat boots with loosened laces. Her hair, which had been tied in a tight bun at the nape of her neck yesterday, was now loose, tumbling down her back and around her face in a cascade of soft, golden curls.

He took in the details of her facial features – her skin was smooth and flawless, with a slightly tanned glow; her mouth curved upwards at the edges, lower lip slightly fuller than the upper; her nose was tall and straight and her eyebrows were thin and slightly arched. Her eyes, framed by long dark lashes, were a fascinating mixture of green, blue and grey.

Leah was beautiful alright, but there was certain hardness about her, from her life as a Hunter no doubt, that gave her a dangerous quality– her face was guarded and her eyes were those of someone who'd seen things most people could only dream about in their nightmares.

"So how did you find us?" Sam asked. This was the one question that had been nagging him since she knocked on their door this morning. He just couldn't work out how she found them under a fake check-in name.

"Because I know who you are." Leah replied simply, "You're the Winchesters."

Sam and Dean froze.

Their faces darkened and Leah caught the look that passed between them.

"Now," she continued calmly, "Before the two of you start making wild guesses, let me just establish something."

She reached out and took the fork from Dean's hand. She scooped up a piece of the pie and deliberately put the fork into her mouth, chewed and swallowed.

"Silver," she stated. She handed the fork back to Dean, who inspected it and nodded slightly at Sam. _She's not a shape-shifter._

Next she pulled out a flask from the inside of her jacket and took a sip from it. She turned the flask so they could see the cross engraved deep into the metal.

"Holy water" said Sam. He felt the tension go out of his body. _She wasn't a demon either. _

Leah replaced the flask and looked at them, waiting.

"O-k…" Dean rubbed his hands together. "So who exactly are you? And how do you know about us?"

"John told me."

Dean raised his eyebrows, taken aback. "Huh."

"Wait, wait," Sam broke in, "You're saying our _dad _told you about us? Where to find us?" He shook his head, confused.

"Yes" explained Leah, "I got a text from him a few days ago with a set of coordinates and a message telling me to find you. As for telling me about you…I've heard bits and pieces here and there."

Dean swore. "All this time I've been worrying about him...he's ok and he didn't contact me? That bastard!"

"Wait…" Leah looked at Dean sharply, "You mean you don't know where he is?"

Sam replied, "Actually, we have no idea. Dean came and got me a few days ago, said that dad was missing. We've been looking for him since."

"Damn it!" Leah slammed her fist down onto her leg in frustration. _After all these years, her father still won't face her? She'd thought finding her brothers would lead her to him, or at least that Sam and Dean would know where he was. But obviously his negligence extended to all his children, not just her. _

Sam and Dean were both shocked at her violent reaction.

"Woah, relax man!" Dean reached out a hand in a placating gesture.

"Sorry." Leah sighed heavily as she regained her composure and rubbed ruefully at her thigh.

"How do you know John, anyways?" Sam asked. It puzzled him – Leah was young, younger than both him and Dean, he guessed – what could a young woman in the trade want with a seasoned old Hunter like his dad?

Leah paused and thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully, and replied, "He…saved my life. I lost my parents in a fire when I was 16. John found me and rescued me and I haven't heard from him since...until I got his text."

"So what do you want with him now?" Dean put in.

Leah's eyes grew dark and her voice was hard – "Did I mention it was a freak fire? The last time I saw him, he promised to hunt down the creature that killed my parents…killed my mom…and now I want to know if he's found it. Because when he does, I am going to _kill _that son of a bitch."


	6. The Great Escape

**Chapter 5 – The great escape**

_Leah's eyes grew dark and her voice was hard. "Did I mention it was a freak fire? The last time I saw him, he promised to hunt down the creature that killed my parents…killed my mum…and I want to know if he's found it. Because when he does, I am going to kill that son of a bitch."_

Dean looked at her. He knew how she felt, to want revenge. He felt it every single day – the urge to hunt down the monster that'd murdered his mom and rip him to shreds.

"Hey," he said, leaning forward slightly, "Don't worry. Sooner or later, you'll get your turn and when you do, go gut that bastard who killed your mom."

Leah's eyes softened as she looked at Dean and she gazed at him sadly. _Oh Dean. If only you knew. But she couldn't tell them, not yet. Not until they found dad anyways. She inwardly cursed her dad again for keeping her birth a secret from them. She was looking at the only family she got and to them, she was just a stranger. _

"Anywho…" Leah snapped herself out of it. "That'll all have to wait. As I was saying, John's text sent me to Jericho and after I got here I did a bit of snooping around, tried to figure out what he was up to. "

"And you worked it out," said Dean. It was not a question, "It's…"

"A Woman in White" Sam finished for him.

"Mmhm," confirmed Leah. She decided not to tell them that she '_worked it out' _by breaking into John's motel room. "You got it. I thought John got rid of it, but after last night…"

"So dad didn't salt and burn her bones?" Sam looked at Dean, who made an _'I don't know'_ motion– "Looks like it."

Leah gestured around the room, "I'm not saying I feel bad for these men – I don't, believe me – but if that ghost's still in town then I – _we – _have to go after it."

Dean let out a slow whistle. "Had us wondering for a while, trying to work out how you knew about the woman in white in the first place. It all makes sense now, you being a Hunter and all."

"Well I'm glad you feel enlightened." was her reply.

Sam remembered yesterday and chuckled. "Your note gave Dean quite a turn. He thought it was – "

"Shut it, Sammy!"warned Dean. He glanced at Leah and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Thought it was this?" asked Leah casually. She handed Dean a slip of paper identical to the last, but this time there were numbers on it rather than words.

"Hn" grunted Dean. He and Sam raised their eyebrows at each other and shrugged in unison.

"For emergencies" she told them. "But for now, if you need me, you'll find me next door."

"Notice she said '_we' _instead of _'I'_?"

Dean sat on the bed and looked up at Sam, who was standing above him.

"Yeah," replied Sam, pacing around, "Reckon she means she wants to work with us?"

"Sounds like it." Dean frowned, "I dunno, Sam. We're a good team, you and I, but we're lone wolves – it's always been us two till now. I mean, I'll be the first to admit that that girl is _hot_, but how good a Hunter do you bet she is? We can't be worrying about her during a job, Sammy."

"I get your point," Sam nodded and looked at Dean solemnly, "And I totally agree with you. But I just thought, you know, after all she's done for us…"

"She got us _breakfast_, Sammy" said Dean, exasperated, "You're going to let her buy her way in with a bottle of beer and a sandwich?"

Sam ignored him – "…And I figured the least we could do is give her a chance…you know…for all we know, she could kick your ass."

"This is about dad, isn't it?" Dean looked Sam, eyebrows raised.

"Well…" Sam bobbed his head from one side to the other, "I just thought the faster we solve this case, the faster we can go look for dad, yeah."

"Look, Dean," Sam looked Dean in the eye earnestly, "Truth is, I just want to find dad, ok? The sooner we find him, the sooner we can clear this mess up and go home. So if Leah can help, even a little bit, that's good enough for me."

Their eyes locked for what seemed a very long time, trying to stare each other down. Finally, Dean gave up and sighed. _He knew Sam was baiting him, but he had to take it. He couldn't let Leah outdo him in Sam's opinion…kick his ass…he'd show them. _

"Ok, fine. She can tag along." He glared at Sam, who looked back innocently – "but if she gets in trouble, you're cleaning up."

"_Hey, it's me…it's about 10:20 Friday night…" _Sam sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled as he listened to Jessica's voicemail.

"Hey man," Dean walked out of the bathroom, "I'm starving. I'm gonna grab a little something to eat at that diner down the street." He shrugged on a coat – "You want anything?" he asked Sam.

"No" Sam shook his head, still holding his phone to his ear.

"Aframian's buying." Dean offered. When Sam didn't reply, he shrugged and walked out the door.

He looked around as he walked down the steps and his heart sank. There, parked less than ten meters away, was a police car, and standing in front were two officers and the old guy from the front desk, who was pointing right at him.

He pulled out his mobile and dialed Sam's number urgently.

Inside, Sam had just finished listening to Jessica's message when he got Dean's call.

"What?" he asked as he picked up.

"Dude, five-o, take off" Dean warned as the two policemen approached him.

"What about you?"

"Uh, they kinda spotted me. Go find dad." Dean snapped his phone shut and whirled around the face the policemen.

He grinned at them, then faked a confused frown – "Problem ,officers?" he asked, playing dumb.

"Where's your partner?" asked the dark-skinned police officer from yesterday's crime scene, folding his arms across his chest.

"Partner? What? What partner?" Dean asked innocently.

The officer stared at him coldly and jerked a thumb towards their motel room, motioning for his partner to search it. Dean's smile disappeared and he licked his lips nervously, eyes trailing after the policeman as he approached the door.

Sam watched as the policeman drew closer and hurriedly snapped the curtains shut. _Time to go._

"So, fake U.S. Marshal, fake credit cards…you got anything that's real?"

Dean turned his attention back to the officer standing in front of him – "My boobs" he drawled, with a devil-may-care grin.

"Oof…" Dean grunted as he was slammed into the bonnet of a car, his hands cuffed behind his back.

"You have the right to remain silent." was the last thing they told him as they bundled him into the police car.

Leah was sipping a cup of coffee as the policemen arrived. She watched from her window as they took Dean away.

She sighed to herself – _I warned them not to go outside. Dean you idiot…you just don't listen, do you? You're gonna owe me big time after I get your sorry ass out of trouble again, brother dear._

"So you want to give us your real name?" asked the Sheriff as he walked into the interrogation room, carrying a large box on his shoulder.

"I told you. It's Nugent. Ted Nugent." – lied Dean.

"I'm not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in here." the Sheriff said, sternly.

"We're talking, like, misdemeanor kind of trouble or uh, "squeal like a pig" kind of trouble?" asked Dean. He knew his impertinence and don't-give-a-shit attitude pissed these self-important sons of bitches off and he enjoyed it, too.

"You got the face of 10 missing persons taped to your wall, along with a whole lot of satanic mumbo jumbo," the Sheriff leant on the box and fixed Dean with a hard look, "Boy, you are officially a suspect."

"That makes sense…" Dean returned the look from beneath hooded lids. Sarcasm dripped from his voice. "…'Cause when the first one went missing in '82, I was 3."

The Sheriff rolled his eyes exasperatedly – "I know you've got partners. One of them is an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing." He straightened and rummaged around in the box.

"So tell me, Dean…" he began, throwing an old, battered leather bound journal onto the table, "is this his?"

He walked around and sat on the table beside Dean. "I thought that might be your name," he continued, flipping open the journal, "See, I leafed through this, what little I could make out. I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy…but I found this, too."

Dean looked at the page he'd stopped on and saw his own name followed by the numbers _35 – 111…coordinates!_

But the Sheriff started talking again before he had time to think – "Now, you're staying right here till you tell me exactly what the hell that means." he said harshly, jabbing a finger at the page.

Leah checked her watch – it was 4:30 in the afternoon and the sky had started to darken. She'd been parked there along the curb for the last 3 hours, first sorting through lore on the women in white, then reading a random paperback she'd found in her trunk.

Leah stretched and got out of her car. When she was sure no one was paying attention to her, she quickly stepped into a phone booth on the side of the road and dialed 911.

"_Help!" _she panted hysterically into the phone, "_There's a madman on the street…he's got a gun and he's firing it left and right…oh my God, we're all going to die!" _

"_Calm down, ma'am." _came the voice from the receiver, trying to sound reassuring, "_Just tell us where you are and we'll be there immediately."_

"_I'm…" _Leah glanced out of the phone box at the nearest street sign – "_at Whiteford Road. Hurry, please!" _

She smiled to herself as she hung up the receiver. Not a bad day's work. 

"I don't know how many times I got to tell you, it's my high school locker combo." Dean folded his hands and fixed his eyes on the numbers on the page. _Why were these douche-bags so goddamn persistent? Couldn't they just give him a break for a minute? He needed time to think!_

"Are we gonna do this all night long?" asked the Sheriff tiredly.

Another policeman poked his head around the door – "We just got a 911. Shots fired over at Whiteford Rd." he told the Sheriff.

"Do you have to go to the bathroom?" he asked Dean.

"No." replied Dean flatly.

"Good" – the Sheriff took out a pair of handcuffs, cuffed Dean to the table and walked out the door.

Dean tested the cuffs – they were securely locked. He looked around the room and his eyes fell on a paper clip protruding from his dad's journal. He slid it out and examined it, a smile creeping onto his face.


End file.
